


Sentiment

by nsmorig



Series: 1920s Oxford AU [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dancing, F/F, Fluff, Historically Anachronistic Nat King Cole, Other, Prompt Fic, What is Yasha upset about? That's for me to know and you to not know.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 10:46:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16386431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nsmorig/pseuds/nsmorig
Summary: It was a dark and stormy night, and Nat King Cole was playing in the ballroom.Set vaguely somewhere in my 1920s AU.





	Sentiment

**Author's Note:**

> asked for prompts; got 'beau/jester, dancing?' and 'yestergard, cuddles, and maybe a kiss!' so. sorry, liv, it's only a cheek kiss, but i hope you appreciate how Softe(tm) I tried to make this.
> 
> The songs mentioned are both Nat King Cole songs, bc I had my grandpa's records on while writing this.

The piano strains come drifting through the floorboards, and Beau can't suppress a smile as Jester taps out a spin and a ragged beat, still dancing. The champagne is fizzing somewhere under her skin, loosening the strings that keep her tightly wound and letting her throw Jester back out into a lazy twirl when she stumbles into Beau on the stairs. 

 

"We should go back to France," Jester announces, focusing on taking the steep stairs in her pretty heels, tipsier than Beau is.

 

"Uh. Alright, but why?"

 

"We should see her, the painting the song's about."

 

Beau has to focus for a moment to work out the lyrics, this far away from the gramophone, but finally it parses.

 

"Mona Lisa?"

 

"Yep! She's got a really really pretty smile, my mum says."

 

Beau's no good at words, but she's a little drunk and humming with a sort of vague, unfamiliar happiness that leaves her a lot more confident than she remembers being in a long time. Impulses hum in her chest like caged birds.

 

"There's a real pretty smile right here, you know."

 

Jester blinks at her for a moment, paused on the landing, before breaking into the smile Beau was talking about and flushing a pale violet. 

 

"Like that, yeah."

 

The nervousness is back, a little bit, but the way Jester's swayed towards her and the way she's _looking_ at her mean that it's only a shadow in the back of her mind.

 

Down in the ballroom the song skips over, and the slow waltzing start of 'Unforgettable' is familiar like a warm coat. She hums the chorus a little bit and Jester spins again, and this time when she comes in Beau doesn't twirl her back out and they drift together on the landing for a moment. 

 

The moment hangs in the air like honey, sweet and warm.

 

It's then, of course, that a butler comes hurrying down the corridor. Beau really can't fathom why rich people would want them around all the time, ruining her attempts to-- Well. She's not sure what she's trying, here, actually. It's new. It's nice.

 

Jester smiles impishly at the butler, charming enough that he doesn't seem to feel the need to stop and question them like every other stuck-up servant in the building has done with Beau. 

 

It might be because Jester looks like she belongs here, in this fancy palace, in her pretty heels and pretty dress and pretty lipstick, with that smile. It might be because Beau doesn't.

 

There's really no time for that now, though, because Jester's taken hold of her hand and is dragging her down a side corridor. "Do you know," she stage-whispers, "That you can get onto the roof from down here? I was exploring yesterday. You can see the whole lake."

 

The words 'are you trying to get me alone?' line themselves up on her tongue, but she says nothing. She doesn't want to break this with questions.

 

By 'You can get onto the roof from down here,' Jester apparently means 'They can get onto a balcony, which has a gutter running next to it, and from there Jester can scramble upwards with a great deal of swinging around and giggling until she's got her arms over the battlements.' Beau can find her own footholds and shows off a little bit, hanging a handstand on the edge before holding out her hand for Jester to take. The muscles in Jester's arms bunch as she hauls herself over, and Beau's mouth goes dry.

 

She doesn't drop her hand.

 

"Jessie--" She starts, before a scraping issues from somewhere behind her and she turns. 

 

Yasha is standing on the edge of the roof, braced against the railings, and quiet against the whisper of the trees Beau can hear an intake of breath.

 

Something's wrong, with the way she's holding herself, with that breath, how she'd tried to make it unnoticeable. Beau's not stupid. She picks up the things that people hide. It used to be her stock-in-trade.

 

"Sorry," Yasha says, and Beau can hear it again, that little choked dryness in the way she murmurs her words. "I can go."

 

"It's fine," Beau says, and coughs. "We were, ah, we were looking for you."

 

Jester opens her mouth beside her, and looks, oh, adorably puzzled, but Beau squeezes her hand and she seems to realise.

 

"Um." Yasha whispers almost, looking about as lost as Beau feels. "I was just. Looking at the stars."

 

Jester steps in closer to Beau and then in front, warm and reaching out. "Are you okay?" She says, painfully hesitant, and finally she's got what Beau meant.

 

"Um."

 

They step closer, and now Beau can see the way her broad shoulders have rolled forwards and the way her pale eyes shine in the moonlight. She stands still for a moment, letting the breeze lift her hair and set it down again, before she takes another deep breath.

 

Time crystallises, the second shining in the air, before Yasha lets the breath out and straightens her back. "I can go," she says again, and shifts on her feet towards the maintenance hatch.

 

She gets two steps away, almost entirely turned away from them, before Jester speaks again. "Yasha!" she calls. "Would you like a hug? It's okay if you don't. But you seem like you might."

 

Yasha freezes, and Beau is so, so grateful for Jester, because she wants to help but she could never have said it like that. 

 

She smiles a tiny, sad smile, and turns back to them. Jester drops Beau's hand and wastes no time in stepping right in, curling her arms around her waist. Yasha settles herself slowly and gingerly, tucking her chin over Jester's, and looks up once at Beau before she seems to very slowly melt into the hug.

 

Beau turns to leave, presuming that this isn't for her, but a hand snags at the back of her uncomfortable suit-jacket and she stops. Jester's grabbed her, but it's Yasha who's stretched a hand out toward her, her other arm still tight around Jester.

 

Beau’s bony, and no good at giving hugs, and isn’t sure where to put her arms or her head or anything, but luckily for her Jester is amazing at hugs and Yasha is big enough that there’s a lot to cuddle. The three of them migrate to sitting down against one of the walls, Yasha’s arms around them both and Jester in everyone’s laps at once. The night grows darker and colder slowly, a wind skipping over the hills.

 

This wasn’t where Beau expected her night to go. She isn’t sure what she was expecting, actually, but when Jester drops a kiss on both of their cheeks and starts quietly naming stars she thinks she'd prefer this.

 

It’s peaceful, mostly. They don’t get a lot of peace. She’s determined to hang onto this for as long as she can. For as long as she’s allowed.

 

===

 

Yasha is very far from home. She misses a lot of things, and the night is cold and there are so many things she can’t fix, but just for now she’s warm.


End file.
